


Heartache

by princetestified



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, On The Way To A Smile: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cloud Strife Avoids His Loved Ones, Cloud Strife Is Angsty, Cloud Strife Needs Therapy, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Hope, Light Angst, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-Game(s), Pre-Advent Children (Compilation of FFVII), kind of, there is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princetestified/pseuds/princetestified
Summary: "Cloud hung up. Tifa closed her phone and set it down on the counter before her, glancing around as she blinked rapidly, swiping away tears as their flow began to ebb."
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Heartache

**Author's Note:**

> set after the original game but before advent children! so basically while the "on the way to a smile" stories are being told. you can read this fic without having seen them though, no worries.
> 
> aka the remake is giving me feelings again and i wanted to give us all a little bit of hope right now.

Tonight, putting Marlene and Denzel to bed had been far more emotionally taxing than Tifa had expected it to be.  
  
Barret had called, with good news: he had reunited with Cid, and seemed to be following a lead on a new energy source. He had sounded far more lively on the phone than he had in some time, lifting everybody's spirits. Marlene had talked his ear off about her lessons, about how good she was getting at helping Tifa tally up the register at the end of the night, about the flower journal she was keeping. Denzel was much more wary; he had never met Barret, had only heard tales from Tifa and Marlene, and found the man's booming voice to be startling. However, they seemed to build a rapport before Barret reluctantly asked that he hand the phone back to Tifa and, eventually, ended the call.  
  
The three of them were excited by the news — if he had indeed found fuel, then it couldn't be long until he came home, right? However, the joy had faded by the time that Marlene and Denzel were supposed to trek upstairs to bed. As Tifa had tucked her in and kissed her good night, the six-year-old whispered tearfully that she missed her father with her whole heart, and Cloud too, an admission that Tifa found difficult to choke down. Instead, she had smiled back at Marlene, smoothing her hair away from her face.  
  
“You heard him, didn't you? He said he's making great progress. He'll be home before you know it.”  
  
“But what about Cloud? Will he come back soon too?”  
  
“I'm sure he will. He always does.” Marlene looked unconvinced, an emotion that Tifa could not fault her for feeling. It had been weeks since Cloud had even stopped in Edge, under the half-truth that he was busy with deliveries.  
  
Deliveries that Tifa scheduled for him.  
  
“You should call him too, Tifa. If Daddy called, then maybe Cloud will pick up this time.”  
  
“That's a great idea. If he does, I'll let you know as soon as I can, okay?”  
  
Marlene's watery eyes narrowed as they searched Tifa's face for any dishonesty. She found none; Tifa was rarely, if ever, untruthful with Barret's daughter. After a moment more of scrutiny, she nodded, the crease between her brows smoothing out. Marlene blinked away any remaining tears, heaved a sigh, and turned over onto her side to get comfortable.  
  
Denzel had remained quiet during the entire exchange. Tifa tucked him in as well, as gentle as could be, and murmured another good night. With her hand on the knob, she turned back around to give them both a final “I love you”, a sentiment the both of them returned in small, but genuine, voices. As she pulled the door shut behind herself with a soft click, the resulting silence felt stifling.  
  
Tifa took the stairs back down to the bar, careful to keep her footfalls quiet. She pulled up a stool, getting comfortable. Just for a moment, she could take a break before she finished up the rest of her endless to-do list.  
  
As soon as she was left to her own devices, she thought immediately of Marlene's insistence that she call Cloud. She had learned by now to trust Marlene's gut. She was very insightful, especially for someone so young. It reminded Tifa too much of Aerith, who Marlene seemed determined to model every aspect of herself after. In the mornings, Tifa would sit Marlene down in front of the bathroom mirror and do her hair, deftly plaiting it as she had begun to request not too terribly long ago.  
  
And, every morning, without fail, Tifa would see Aerith's smile staring back at her in the glass as she tied the pink ribbon around the base of Marlene's braid.  
  
Before she could stop herself, Tifa pulled her phone out of her pocket and flipped it open. As it always did, an anxious hope rushed into her throat, swelled her chest full to bursting, her eyes flitting over the screen to catch any notification from Cloud that might have gone on unread.  
  
And, as it always did, the hope fizzled out as quickly as it had bubbled up. Nothing.  
  
There never was anything these days.  
  
Still, she had to trust Marlene, didn't she? It was no secret that Tifa missed Cloud more than the kids combined, longed after what could have been, what should have been, what was. Tifa clicked through to her contacts. Cloud's pixelated face stared back at her from his icon. She felt a surge of aggravation, looking at those distinctive, blue-green eyes. Their mako-infused glow could never quite be captured on camera.  
  
How dare he leave them behind like this? How dare he let Denzel suffer, sick and scared, after he had rescued him and promised him a better life? How dare he let Marlene place so much hope in him as another father figure, only to leave not long after Barret had? How dare he let Tifa struggle to pick up the pieces of something they had only just started building, to function as not only a mother but a nurse and a bartender and a business owner and a secretary, to worry herself into knots over his safety?  
  
Tifa's vision swam as she glared down at her phone screen, gripping the cell so tightly that her knuckles had blanched. Aggravated at herself for her own show of weakness, she tried to blink back the tears. Even now, out of sight of everyone, she refused to cry. After all, she was the strong one, wasn't she? It was Tifa who kept the kids happy, Tifa who kept the bar clean, Tifa who kept Cloud's jobs coming, Tifa who did this, that, the third, and everything else. She was supposed to be made of tougher stuff.  
  
As she hovered over the call button, she felt her anger slowly drain out of her, bit by bit.  
  
Cloud was suffering, too. He had confided in her as much before he left. Cloud had lost Zack not only once, but twice, forced to relive the trauma after regaining his memories. Cloud had been robbed of any opportunity to grieve him by circumstance, unable to pause and allow himself to process his best friend's demise. Cloud had been the one to lay Aerith to rest, cradling her body in his arms, letting her sink slowly down into the very center of the Forgotten City. Cloud had been forced to keep going once again, motivated by his promise to avenge her, the situation moving too fast for any of them to properly work through such complex emotions, much less him.  
  
No doubt Aerith haunted Cloud just as much as she did Tifa, if not more so. And Zack, too — he likely had been for even longer.  
  
This realization filled her with nausea from the bottom up. She was so quick to be so furious with him when he was just as hurt as she was. Maybe it was her fault too. Maybe she wasn't providing him with the support that he so desperately needed. Maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought she did. Maybe she wasn't good enough.  
  
Tifa shook her head, trying to ward off that particular self-destructive spiral. She couldn't go down that rabbit hole, not now, with a million and one things to do, a laundry list that always loomed on the horizon.  
  
And yet she still found herself seated at her own bar, staring at her phone, seriously considering the advice of a six-year-old who knew far too much for her own good. Tifa began to chew on her lower lip, her brow furrowed. Her thumb hovered over the call button, the green receiver icon taunting her. It couldn't hurt to try, could it? At the very least, she had to, just to say she had, even if the seemingly inevitable failure would disappoint Marlene. She deserved the attempt. And Denzel did as well — Tifa knew he missed Cloud with all of his heart, too.  
  
She didn't allow herself any more time to procrastinate or overthink. She pressed the button, then brought her phone up to her ear, listening to the ringing on the other end of the line as her stomach did nervous flips. Her hand began to shake; with her free one, she gripped her wrist. Her elbow rested on the bar for good measure.  
  
One ring. Two rings. Three.  
  
Then, the line clicked over.  
  
“Tifa.”  
  
It was just one word, just her name (God, it was never _just_ her name when Cloud said it), but those two syllables filled her with a rush of relief that came on so fast, it was dizzying. Cloud's voice made her head spin. He was here with her again, even if it was just for this moment, audible and real. He had decided to pick up the phone. He wasn't avoiding her any more, wasn't missing this call. He really did care, after all this time without calling her back or replying to her messages beyond work-related emails.  
  
He was _alive_.  
  
“Cloud?” Tifa could hear her own voice shiver.  
  
“Yeah, it's me.” Cloud swallowed. “Is it another delivery?”  
  
“No, I— Marlene— Barret called me today.”  
  
Cloud was silent on the other line. Tifa started babbling before she could even hope to stop herself, motivated by the quiet and the fact that Cloud was there, Cloud was listening. She had to get it out before he left again.  
  
“He and Cid met up again, in Rocket Town. He's been soul-searching, you know? He wouldn't tell anyone as much, but that's what he's doing. I think he wants to atone. For everything we've done, for everything we've been through. I understand, you know? I get it. But, he said that Cid and the crew for his new airship, they've found oil. And they're in charge of operating this old, refurbished rig. It could be a new fuel source. He was so excited, happier than I've heard him in a long time. Marlene was over the moon. And Denzel talked to him a little bit, too. They seemed to get along.”  
  
Tifa paused. Had she really just unloaded all of that on Cloud without any real prompting? Nervous all over again, she gnawed at her lip.  
  
“... I'm glad,” Cloud said eventually. There was the sound of squeaky, shifting bedsprings. He must have stopped at an inn for the night. “I'm glad Denzel likes him. I'm glad Barret's happy.”  
  
“He sounded hopeful. He might be coming home soon, to see us. All of us.”  
  
A pregnant tension stretched between them as Tifa laid those words out across the line. Cloud swallowed again. The bedsprings creaked.  
  
“I... don't know when— “  
  
“Don't,” Tifa interjected. Her voice no longer trembled. There was steel in her gaze, in her mouth, in her heart. “Don't tell me you don't know when you'll be coming back, Cloud. You have to. For Barret. For Marlene and Denzel.”  
  
_For me_.  
  
Cloud gritted his teeth. She couldn't hear it, but she knew, from the sound of his voice as it came back to her once again. In her mind's eye, she could see the flexing of his jaw.  
  
“I can't. I can't come back yet.” Tifa shook her head, but before she could butt in again, he was answering her unasked question. “I'm... looking for something, too.”  
  
Startled, she fell into silence herself. Though that hadn't been the reply she was expecting, it soothed her nonetheless. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe all of this was just because of his own soul-searching, or whatever it was he was trying to discover. Maybe he was trying to keep them safe.  
  
It felt silly to find relief in such a vague answer. She knew Cloud. He _was_ avoiding them. And something was definitely wrong if he felt that he had to distance himself from them in order to protect them. Tifa wished she could put her finger on what it was. But he had been so far away for so long that she couldn't distinguish anything from what little he gave her to work with.  
  
“Can't we look for it together?” she asked. To her own ears, Tifa's voice seemed small. It bothered her. She was supposed to be stronger than this.  
  
Before he even said it, Tifa could hear his voice forming his answer in her head. “It's too dangerous.”  
  
On another occasion, she might have argued with him. She might have raised her voice and clenched her fists and stared him down, demanding answers, demanding better. But tonight, Tifa found herself overcome by a bone-deep exhaustion. She took in a deep breath, then let it go in a heavy sigh through her nose. She deflated on her bar stool. Her hand no longer gripped the opposite wrist, instead laying on the counter. From her ring finger, Fenrir's image stared back at her, etched forever into silver.  
  
Between them settled a silence once again. This one was not quite companionable, nor as tense as it had been previously. Instead, they seemed to have reached a reluctant understanding.  
  
“Could you let me know when you've found what you're looking for?” Tifa asked. She couldn't stifle the flickers of hope coloring her question.  
  
Cloud gave a sigh of his own, something that popped and crackled over the line. “I don't think I'll have to tell you. You'll know.”  
  
Tifa nodded, tacking on a quiet “okay” upon realizing that he couldn't see her nonverbal agreement. Then, more firmly, she repeated it, like she was trying to convince herself. “Okay.”  
  
“How is Denzel?”  
  
Instantly, images flooded her thoughts. Blackened handkerchiefs, splotchy open sores, brown curls soaked in sweat, fearful eyes, little girl fists clenched around sickbed sheets, the unsteady rise and fall of a thin chest. Tifa remembered holding Denzel's small hand in hers, clammy and trembling, his brow furrowed tightly and his eyes squeezed shut. When the nights were bad, when he tossed and turned too much to sleep, he would call out for her. And when it looked like he might not pull through, he would call out for Cloud, too.  
  
She decided not to tell him as much.  
  
“We take it day by day. Some are better than others. We try to keep things as positive as we can, you know?” Her tone was lighter, not only in words but in heart. Even now, with Cloud out of reach, she was still trying to protect him in kind.  
  
She knew that he knew that there were things she wouldn't divulge. Neither of them wanted to admit as much.  
  
“I _will_ come back,” Cloud abruptly stated. The steely conviction in his voice shook Tifa to her core, rattling all of her wildly, like a windchime in a storm. It was the most positive and certain thing he had said yet. “I don't know when, but I will. I'm not leaving you.”  
  
_I'm not leaving you_.  
  
Tears prickled in Tifa's eyes, warmth filling her up to the brim and then some, overflowing down her cheeks. Fenrir's likeness on her hand blurred and smeared in her watery vision. Wetness hit her skin and splattered on the bar's surface. Not for the first time, she was grateful that she had always maintained a relative silence when she cried. The only tell that bubbled up was a small, soft sniffle.  
  
“I'll be here. Whenever it is you come back, I'll be here.” The words left her in a painfully genuine rush. Though her voice didn't tremble, it too was flooded with emotion, just like all the rest of her.  
  
“I know.” She could hear the minute snag in his voice. Cloud quickly tried to swallow it back down. Tifa pressed her lips into a tight, thin line, brows knitted, eyes shut. Her tears were gathering under her chin before they fell from her face, some slipping down the curve of her throat.  
  
Then, the dreaded, “I have to go, Tifa.”  
  
“Be careful.” It was such an automatic response. She couldn't recall a time that she hadn't told him as much when he left in any capacity since Meteorfall.  
  
And, just as automatically, he replied with, “I will.” Unexpectedly, Cloud continued, “You should be careful too.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
Cloud hung up. Tifa closed her phone and set it down on the counter before her, glancing around as she blinked rapidly, swiping away tears as their flow began to ebb.  
  
In this liminal hour, the bar was dark and empty, though not quite foreboding. If Tifa took the care to focus on the smaller sounds, she could hear Marlene and Denzel holding a quiet conversation on the second floor. They tended to talk after she had put them to bed, confiding in each other. Sometimes, they would work themselves into giggles. As she sat there, eyes closing once more, she could imagine Cloud's exasperated eye roll, his fond smile, the uncertain way he might glance at her if their charges got too rowdy. _What should we do? his gaze would say. Should we leave them alone? Should we shush them? Should_ I _shush them? I don't know how to shush them_.  
  
Had they heard her phone call? Surely they had. It wasn't like she had made an effort to keep it secret. Tifa pushed herself back from the bar and slid off her stool, pocketing her phone with one hand as she tried to blot her cheeks dry with the middle finger of the other. There was no real point in trying to save whatever was left of her makeup; it was instead muscle memory that drove her to be ginger about touching her face at all.  
  
As she ascended the stairs to go into the bathroom, Marlene and Denzel's voices were abruptly gone, leaving the corridor silent. Tifa knew damn well they had not fallen asleep so quickly. Still, she crept down the hall to their closed door, turning the knob with such care so as to not make noise. When she poked her head into the room, she found them feigning unconsciousness. The windows spilled light across the foot of their beds, over the wooden floorboards, night and moonlight bleaching everything of most of their color.  
  
Tifa smiled to herself, then stepped back, pulling the door shut. If they were just talking, then there was no harm being done.  
  
She made her way into the bathroom instead, closing herself in as she flicked on the light. Staring back at her in the mirror was the face of a young woman who had clearly been through the ringer tonight. What remained of the day's mascara and modest eyeliner had trickled down her face in soot-colored, watery rivulets. Her foundation had separated in their wake too, revealing the depths of her dark circles. Her lip gloss, reapplied a few hours ago, had disappeared completely.  
  
But her eyes, both colored and rimmed in red, were bright, even hopeful. For the first time in weeks — months even, maybe _years_ — Tifa found it easy to meet her own gaze. Within her chest burned anew the determination and strength she relied so heavily on to keep herself, her loved ones, and their lives going.  
  
Cloud was alive. Cloud was coming back. Cloud wasn't leaving her.  
  
Things were going to be okay.  
  


* * *


End file.
